barbreadsbooks

[barbreadsbooks]

Violet: I got very unfairly accused of poisoning another cadet.

Xaden: You got framed?!

Violet: No, I did poison the shit out of them, but they didn’t have any proof.

[barbreadsbooks]

Sick Day

Fandom: Fourth Wing (The Empyrean)

Characters: Xaden Riorson x Violet Sorrengail, Rhiannon Matthias, Imogen Cardulo, Garrick Tavis, Dain Aetos, Tairn, Sygael, Ridoc Gamlyn

Summary: Violet is having a bad day, and she’s not always willing to let Xaden in

Warning: vomiting, adult language, canon typical medical talk

A/N: this fic is based on my own experiences with having EDS. My experiences may not line up with yours or other zebras you know, but please be respectful of my personal experience. ConCrit on the way I portray Violet’s EDS is not welcome. I’m just happy to have a hero who is disabled in the same way I am.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

He stays sat next to her on the bed until he hears footsteps approaching, stopping for a second, then retreating. Violet is making the telltale snuffling sounds of sleep, allowing him to carefully stand and check outside his door, stopping first to pull a shirt over his head. He spots the stack of parchment on the floor titled ‘Battle Brief’ with the days date and picks it up to bring inside. There’s also two neatly printed scraps of parchment on top of the notes. He reads the first one.

‘Markham is pissed neither of you were in battle brief, but I think he’ll get over it. Emetterio was almost relieved when Violet didn’t turn up for sparring, I don’t think he likes seeing her get hurt. Other professors all understood.

Cadet Matthias’

The corner of his mouth turns up slightly at the note. Clearly Violet’s friends can take instruction much better than she can. He places it on the desk before reading the other piece.

‘Vi, hope you’re really ok. I don’t know if Riorson will give this to you, but Ridoc and I are worried. I’ve told him what I know but I don’t know much. Send word when you can, and if Riorson is giving you shit I’ll cut his balls off. I don’t care that he’s our wingleader.

Rhi’

He puts that note on top of his own, clearly it wasn’t for his eyes, or maybe Rhiannon wanted him to know the lengths she would go to to protect Violet. He settles back on the bed next to the sleeping girl, retreating to the Tyrrendor hillside that holds his bonds and pulling on the silver strands, attempting to pull the pain from her body to his own. He pulls a little too hard at first, and has to grit his teeth to stop himself waking her.

“Dammit, Violence. How the fuck did you even manage 5 minutes in formation?” He mutters, loosening the connection a little at a time until his own body is noticeably aching, but not immovable. If she can deal with this for days at a time, he can manage a few hours. He grunts slightly as he readjusts to make himself comfortable and starts reading Rhiannon’s battle brief notes.

He has no idea how long he’s sat reading, picking up a book of Tyrrendor fairytales when he finishes going through Rhiannon’s notes. He only looks up occasionally when he hears Violet whimpering, stroking her hair until she settles down. She sleeps through until dinner, when Xaden leaves her to head to the mess hall, sucking air through his teeth as he stands on the hip bearing Violet’s pain. He doesn’t intend to stay long, just enough to grab some food for himself and Violet, but Rhiannon and Ridoc are waiting for him in the hallway leading to the mess.

“Where is she?” Rhiannon demands as soon as he’s close enough.

“Matthias, Gamlyn. Good to see you too. Now move.” He tries to push past but Ridoc blocks his way.

“Cut the shit, Riorson.” Rhiannon spits. “Where’s Violet and what the fuck happened to her at formation that nobody has seen you all day and I had to deliver notes from Battle Brief?”

“Sorrengail is safe, that’s all you need to know. She got hurt and she is sleeping it off, no you cannot see her. I’m sure she will explain everything when you see her next. Now I suggest you move, Cadets, lest your wingleader decide to reassign you both to scrubbing bathing chambers for a month.” His threat is almost venomous in tone as he takes a step into their space.

“It’s her joints, isn’t it?” Ridoc asks. Xaden looks at him. “She had this look on her face at breakfast, like she was in pain, but she hasn’t had any challenges in the past couple days and her flying has gotten way better, so I doubt she got hurt on Tairn. We know about her… problem, so I’m guessing it’s something to do with that.” Xaden opens his mouth as if to say something, then closes it again as the three of them make room for the gaggle of second year riders heading to dinner. As soon as they’re out of earshot Xaden lowers his voice to speak.

“Yes. She dislocated her hip last night and it’s been bothering her since. She fell in formation this morning because her body physically could not hold itself up any longer. I took her to my bed chamber so she could rest without the disturbance of first years running past hers.” He raises his hand, palm flat, at Rhiannon when she takes a step towards him. “Violet will be fine, she is safe with me, and she will be rejoining you when she can. Her professors believe she has been taken ill and that is all anyone needs to know about where Violet is right now. Is that clear?” Rhiannon and Ridoc both nod. “We all have Violet’s best interests in mind here, I am not the enemy. All I need the two of you to do is tell anyone who asks that she is just unwell, no details, and to keep taking notes from Battle Brief until you see one of us in that lecture hall. They can be delivered to the same place as they were today.” He looks pointedly at Rhiannon. “Am I making myself clear or do you need a duty reassignment to get it through?” She nods.

“We’re good, we can do that.” Xaden nods curtly.

“Good, now move so I can make sure she’s eating something.”

[barbreadsbooks]

“I like a woman that makes me feel alive, but also lets me know that it might not be for long.”

- a quote by Garrick Tavis, Drake Cordella and Tairn.

[barbreadsbooks]

“Nico Di Angelo is a token gay! His coming out scene sucked!” babes I’m BEGGING you to remember 2013 gay characters were not allowed in children’s media.

Lemme say that again: In 2013, it was expected that gay characters would be censored in children’s mass media.

Remember Korra? How she and Asami had to settle for ambiguous handholding rather than a kiss? That was fully a year after House of Hades came out. Nickelodeon said No Gays, the Children™ can’t handle that. Too risky. And people said man that stinks, but that’s how these things go in 2014 America.

Gay marriage was literally still illegal in the vast majority of US states. As of October 8th, 2013 (House of Hades release date) Gay Marriage was only a thing in thirteen fucking states. California had only legalized it that year.

Gay people were still very much on the fringes of society. It was an acceptable political position on both sides of the aisle to be against the existence and equal rights of gay people.

Nico was legitimately a landmark character in queer representation. To my knowledge, there wasn’t before an openly gay main character in a bestselling ya/middle grade fantasy fiction series. It simply was not a thing. They didn’t exist. They weren’t allowed to exist.

I remember people crying. Finally. It was a watershed moment. Kids all across the world finally got someone who represented them. It was such a big fucking deal. And it was controversial!!! Not for the reasons it is today, but because people thought gay kids having representation was inappropriate.

Is Nico’s coming out a great scene? No, these days it leaves a lot to be desired. It’s not perfect by any stretch of the imagination and I’m sure Rick wishes he could change it. But the fact that’s the case is a wonderful reflection of how far we’ve come.

All of your gay heroes in children’s media have Nico Di Angelo to thank. It was important, and good. It deserves to be celebrated, even if we’ve progressed past it since.

[barbreadsbooks]

i love them. every single one of them. chomping at the fucking bit for all these new ocs, too

Do your oc’s have actual appearances? Since some of them are described with longer hair and stuff like that.

So, since I write in second-person most of the time, I try to be versatile and keep descriptions to a minimum so that my writing is inclusive to everyone. I do have face claims for everyone, but that’s just for worldbuilding, tbh. The only OC I would say has an “actual appearance” is Cosette, and that’s because she’s Aaric’s sister and therefore looks like a Tauri. If y’all want to see the face claims sometime, though, I’d be happy to share! :]

[barbreadsbooks]

all the miles in between get in your head- Garrick Tavis x Reader

summary: your boyfriend Garrick had to go to Basgiath, he had to leave you behind. One year without any contact. Your heart breaks a little more every day. Even your friends don't offer you any comfort. Until the moment the distance between Garrick and you is not so far anymore.

words: 4.233

titel: Hollywood Hills by Sunrise Awenue

warnings: angst, long-distance relationship, talk about cheating, talk about character death, thinking about cheating, Reader has kind of bad friends (OCs), kissing, fluff

requests are open / main-masterlist/ the empyrean- masterlist/ A03

You open your eyes and stare at your ceiling. Tears gather in your eyes as cold fear grip your entire body. Your nightmare haunts you. You try as best you can to banish the images of a blood-stained, dying Garrick from your mind as you breathe through your panic and blink away your tears.  

You hate these nightmares, but nothing helps. They keep coming back. At night, your imagination paints your worst fears in vivid colors.

The fear slowly leaves your body, retreating until it only wraps itself around your heart. You know it won't get better than this. These feelings, fear and longing never completely go away. They accompanied you since Garrick was forced to enter the Riders Quadrant. Forced to leave you behind. 

You crawl out of your bed, still tired. You pull back the curtains from your window. Outside, the sun shines down on you, reflecting off the soft blanket of snow. Annoyed by the beautiful sight, you turn away. It doesn't match your mood.

You miss Garrick. You miss your boyfriend every day.

You knew the year would be tough until you enter the Healer Quadrant and see each other again.

However you never thought it would be this hard.

You miss him so much. His voice, his laughter, his hugs, his kisses, his humor. Everything about him.

A year without contact, without letters. Your heart aches painfully at this thought, as it does every time.

Today is especially bad. Your nightmare is gnawing at you.

You would love to go back to bed, pull the covers over your head and cry. Wallow in self-pity, and only crawl out from under the warm sheets when it's time for you to head off to Basgiath. But of course, you can't do that. So you turn away from the window, not before glaring angrily at the sun as if it could do something about your bad mood.

Your first stop is the kitchen. You start making your tea. Your gaze goes to the kitchen table, thinking of the countless times you've sat there with Garrick. The death stare he gave his breakfast, Garrick has never been a morning person. The rider Quadrant gets up early. You wonder if Garrick got used to it? Longing tugs at your heart. 

Your mother comes into the kitchen, already dressed for the day and in a great mood. "Good morning," she greets, presses a kiss at the top of your head before she gently ruffles your hair.

"Morning." you don't even try to make your voice cheerful.

"Did you sleep badly?"

"I had a bad dream," you grumble. "About Garr."

Your mother sighs, and that familiar pitying look comes to her face. You hate it when she looks at you like that. She comes over to puts her arm around you. "He's probably fine. He's probably flying through the skies on his dragon." she tries to cheer you up. "Garrick is tough and he has trained for this."

Despite her doubts at the beginning about the marked one boy you introduced to her as your new boyfriend, she warmed up to Garrick over time. Showing genuine interest in him and his life. It's thanks to your mother that Garrick was allowed to come and go from your house as if the place belonged to him.

Tears burn in your eyes again. You blink them away quickly. You feel like you've already cried an entire ocean since he left. You're pathetic. Despite that, there is nothing you can do about the heaviness in your heart.

If only he could write you letters. Then you would know how he's doing. Have his fears come true and most people in the Quadrant want to kill him? Probably! It's not like he can hide who his parents were; the relic on his arm gives him away. Even if he could, Garrick would never hide who he is.

"I miss him so much."

Your mother kisses your forehead. "I know. But it's not forever. You'll see him again."

If he doesn't die first.

You quickly push these thoughts away. No, you can't and don't want to believe that Garrick is dead.

And what if he doesn't want to see you next year?

You sometimes hate your own thoughts. Nevertheless, your mood sinks a little further. Fear tugs at your heart. 

A year without contact is a long time. What if Garrick forgets that he loves you? What if he's already left you long ago?

The front door swings open, tearing you from your thoughts. The next moment your best friend Mara comes into the kitchen.

One look at you makes her cheerful smile slip. The next moment, determination takes over her expression. "No! We're not in a bad mood today. No more heartbreak! We're going to the Festival of Lights!"

You groan in annoyance. In your current mood, you don't have the nerves for the crowded market, loud people, and crowds. "I don't want to."

"No arguments. Hop, hop. Get dressed, the others are already waiting."

You have known Mara your whole life, and that's why you know that arguing with that look on her face is pointless. So you obey.

Obviously, you're too slow. When you get back downstairs Mara is already waiting at the door. "Come on, we have to pick up the others. And I bet Jace is still asleep."

You take your jacket and pull it over your, Garrick's, hoodie before following Mara outside.

She is right. Jace is really still asleep as you arrive. So is Terry. Only Ella is already waiting for you when you show up at her place. Considerably late.

Your mood doesn't improve despite the boys' constant stupid jokes, the new gossip from around town, and Jace's long story about his nephew's first attempts at horse riding.

You barely participate in the conversation. Just trudge along beside your friends while your thoughts jump back and forth between worrying about Garrick and the desire to finally see him again, to hug him, to kiss him.

Only when you hear your name do you look up from the path in front of you. "What?" you ask.

Ella looks at you confused. "What's wrong with you? Are you not feeling well?"

Mara answers for you before you even have a chance to take a breath. "She's just brooding over Garrick again. Broken heart and all."

"Still?" Terry interjects.

"Yeah, still!" you snarl angrily. Your friends have never been Garrick fans.

A marked one, a child of the rebels, his family is responsible for the deaths of so many loyal citizens. Blah blah! None of this is Garrick's fault. And your friends are just too blind to see his big heart, his compassion, his kindness.

They judge him even though they haven't even bothered to get to know him.

"And you think that will do any good?" you know Jace doesn't mean any harm. Still, you have to swallow down your anger.

"He's probably already forgotten about you," Terry interjects.

As if the mean voice in your head that keeps telling you that Garrick is done with you wasn't bad enough. No, now your friends are saying things like this too. 

"Well, my brother said he had never been fucking around again like he did in his first year the Rider Quadrant." Jace leans past Ella to look at you. Ella slaps him hard in the side for his stupid comment.

"You're so stupid," she whispers to him.

"Garrick isn't like that," you say firmly, ignoring the pitying looks from your friends. They think you are naive. A stupid girl who's been lied to and cheated on by Garrick.

"You once said he was acting strangely. Suspicious. You even thought he was cheating on you. Now he has it even easier. No need to sneak away anymore," says Mara.

You suppress an eye roll. That was ages ago. When you first noticed Garrick disappearing for a few days every now and then.

You're angry with yourself for telling Mara about your worries before talking to Garrick about it.

"I wish I could explain it properly, but I can't. You have to trust me. If it were safe for you, I'd tell you everything. Please trust me." And you trust him! He's not cheating on you!

"I told you he was meeting his friends," you defend Garrick. Even though you know it's a hopeless battle.

"Friends none of us have ever met. Neither do you, by the way," Terry points out.

"I know Xaden," you defend yourself immediately. It's an exaggeration, you only saw Xaden once for five minutes. But that's not the point. You don't even want to imagine how your friends would have treated Garrick's childhood friends from Tyrrendor.

Let them think what they want. You know it's not the truth. You know he would never cheat on you. He loves you. Just as much as you love him. One year. You can do this. Your relationship can survive. 

"You don't even know if he's still alive."

"He is!"

The most dangerous thing in the first year is Threshing, and this was months ago. If Garrick survived that, he can survive anything! You wish you could see him for just a brief moment. You wouldn't even have to talk to him. Just seeing him for a brief moment would be enough. His smile, his bright eyes, his dimples.

Your hand goes to your necklace with the small heart pendant. The small package arrived for your birthday a few weeks ago. Garrick left it with Bodhi before his departure, with strict instructions to send it on time.

At least, that's what Bodhi's letter to you said. You only know him from Garrick's stories. But he sent you a birthday greeting and a gift from Garrick. You will be forever grateful for that.

Every time you touch your necklace, the distance to Garrick doesn't feel quite so far. You feel close to him again.

The card that came with the package is in your nightstand drawer.

So you don't forget me.

As if you weren't thinking about him every second. And every second it hurts more.

Does he miss you as much as you miss him? The next moment, your thoughts seem silly. Of course not. He has enough to do just to survive.

You're sure he is still alive. Someone would have told you! You cling to that hope. You repeat it over and over in your head when fear for Garrick keeps you awake at night. He's alive.

You finally arrive at the marketplace, your hands already frozen solid. And Garrick isn't there to warm them between his. 

As you feared, it's crowded, but Ella still digs her arm through yours and pulls you through the crowd. You stroll from stall to stall, buying lottery tickets even though you know none of you will win. You take a long break for food. You warm yourself up with hot cocoa.

The day flies by. Still, even though you really try, the cheerful atmosphere around you doesn't make it into your heart. For the first time in your life you are glad for the short winter days. The sun is slowly setting, and when it's time to gather in the middle of the marketplace, you are almost relieved.

"Three. Two. One." sounds over the place. In the next moment the lamps are lit. All around you, small flames in colorful glasses ignite. The lights illuminate the dark sky above you, casting sparks and shadows across everything and bathing the snow-covered roofs in bright colors.

It's beautiful. Nevertheless tears well up in your eyes again and your heart grows heavy.

Last year you were here with Garrick. Just as the lights came on, he kissed you. His hand on your cheek was warm as he pulled you close. A whole firework of happiness exploded inside you. "I love you," he whispered against your lips and then kissed you again.

Mara nudges you in the side, bringing you back to the moment. When she sees your tears, she sighs, half annoyed, half sympathetic. When she puts her arm around you, you are still grateful and lean against her shoulder.

You manage to get through the rest of the afternoon with a forced smile on your lips, but as you step through the front door, tears stream down your cheeks. Annoyed by everything and yourself, you wipe them away. 

You could have had a nice day with your friends, but your stupid heart had to remind you especially strongly today how much you miss your boyfriend. Probably because you know the day would have been a thousand times better if Garrick had been by your side.

Without really talking to your parents, you go upstairs, take a hot bath, and then retreat to your room. You light a few candles, draw the curtains across your window to shut out the outside world.

Maybe you can sleep away your bad mood and your aching heart. You slip into comfortable clothes and sit in front of your mirror and start brushing your still damp hair. The mirror in front of you shows sad eyes that look back at you tiredly. You take a deep breath. You ask How much longer can you endure all of this?

Maybe it really would have been wiser to break up before Garrick had to go to Basgiath. Then everything would be easier now. You wouldn't worry so much, you wouldn't be so sad.

You shake your head slightly at this lie. You would probably be even sadder, worry even more. Your love for Garrick wouldn't have disappeared just because you broke up.

You put your brush aside, close your eyes and sigh sadly. Today was a shitty day. But tomorrow will surely be better! And soon you willl be able to see Garrick again. This separation, this distance, is not forever. 

A dull thud behind you makes you flinch. You open your eyes and spin around.

Your eyes play a cruel trick on you. Garrick is standing in your room, handsome as ever. Your heart starts beating wildly in your chest. You're surely dreaming. This can only be a dream. Garrick would never just show up in your room like this, hundreds of miles away from Morraine.

"Hey, Honey." his voice is soft and warm, a slight smile dances around his lips. Your heart leaps.

You blink,  stare at him. You can't believe he's really standing in front of you. The next moment you jump up and throw yourself into his arms. Garrick immediately wraps his strong arms around you, pulls you to his chest, buries his nose in your hair. You feel his warmth, his heartbeat, breathe in his pleasant scent deeply. He's real. This isn't a dream. Garrick is really standing in your room, really holding you in his arms. This fact hits you, and you can't suppress a sob.

"No, Honey. Don't cry. Everything's fine." your boyfriend gently strokes the back of your head. You pull away a little, just enough to look at him. His hazel eyes shine warmly at you, flicking over your face as if he wants to memorize every inch of it. He gently wipes the tears from your cheeks. When he smiles, dimples form on his cheek. You take half a step back, reaching for his hand as you study him closely.

He's always been fit, but his muscles are even more pronounced now under his black clothing. A nearly healed wound stands out on his cheekbone, his knuckles are scraped, and there's a new scar on his neck. His black hair is shorter than you have ever seen it.

But he is alive. And he is standing right in front of you.

"How?" you ask, confused. Your mind is having a hard time keeping up with all the feelings swirling around inside you.

The smile on his face widens even a little. "Signet. But shhh." he puts a finger to his lips. "I've been trying to come to you for days. Xaden said it was a bad idea, but I just couldn't resist. Gods. I've missed you so much."

His hand goes to your hip and he pulls you back against him. Your heart begins to flutter as he slowly bends his head and your lips meet. Fireworks explode inside you as his lips gently move against yours. You wrap your arms around him, savoring the feeling of finally being able to kiss Garrick again. You never want to be separated from him again.

"Better than I remember," he whispers against your lips. You giggle, but Garrick's lips capture yours again and he pulls you closer. Only when you both run out of breath do you separate.

"I missed you so much," you say, snuggling up in his arms and burying your face in the crook of his neck.

Garrick's hand finds the back of your head, gently strokes your hair, and he kisses the top of your head. "Me too. I think of you every day, Honey."

You breathe in his scent deeply before looking into his beautiful eyes again. Warmth and love spread through you. For the first time today you are truly, completely and unconditionally happy.

"How are you?" you ask, checking for injuries again.

"It's gotten better since Threshing," he answers. You frown your eyebrows. Garrick places a hand on your cheek again, gently caress it. "Don't worry. They are not seriously trying to kill us anymore."

You have to swallow. You knew it would be hard for him, but real assassination attempts? Rage burns beneath your skin. How dare they! Garrick has done nothing wrong. "I hate them for this," you say, squeezing his hand. You're not a violent person, the sight of blood makes you sick. Still, you want to kill them all just because they're trying to kill your boyfriend. "I wish everyone would leave you alone."

Garrick laughs mirthlessly and shrugs. "I got used to it." you hate that he's gotten used to assassination attempts. You're afraid that one day your kind, cheerful, gentle Garrick won't be there anymore. That they will break him. "But that's not important right now. I want to show you something." Garrick raises his hand, and a few colorful mage lights appear around you, casting soft rays onto the walls. Fascinated, you watch as the colorful lights dance in the air around you. It's a thousand times more beautiful than the Festival of Lights.

"That's damn cool," you say laughing.

"I know," Garrick grins like a little kid. No, noone will ever be able to take your Garrick away from you. "I can do more." another twist of his wrist, and your door lock clicks softly as it locks. You giggle softly at the proud grin on his face.

 "So you use your magic for little party tricks?" you grin at him.

"What else? That's the only positive thing about the whole Rider Quadrant," he grins, and then suddenly flinches. Is he in pain? Before you can ask what's wrong, Garrick speaks again. "Chradh disagrees." he then laughs. A gentle smile now appears on his face. "I wish you could get to know him. He's, after you, the best thing that ever happened to me. As soon as you get to the Healer Quadrant, we'll sneak away and you'll get to know him."

"I would love that," you say, swallowing your fear. As long as Garrick is by your side, nothing will happen to you, even if you were facing a fire-breathing dragon.

Garrick pulls you closer again, kissing your forehead gently. "Enough of this. How are you?"

"I miss you terribly. All the time." you admit.

Garrick sighs softly, resting his chin on your head while his arms wrap around your body. "I miss you all the time too," he says.

You swallow your tears before whispering, "Mara thinks you're cheating on me. And forgot about me."

Garrick snorts derisively. He dislikes Mara as much as Mara dislikes him. He takes a half-step back to look you in the eyes. "You know I would never do that! I love you and only you. The mere idea of ​​being with anyone else is ridiculous."

You beam at him. "I told her that too." you stand on tiptoes to kiss him. "I'm sorry I sometimes doubt."

Garrick sighs again. "It's fine. I know it's hard. I'm sorry you have to go through this. That I can't be by your side."

"You were forced," you say. Then you shake your head. "But you're here now. I don't want to talk about us being apart for so long when you are standing right in front of me."

Garrick smiles again, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips and then to the necklace around your neck. His smile widens even further.

"I see Bodhi did what I asked," he says, gently stroking the piece of jewelry with his finger.

"Yes," you grin. "Thank you. The necklace is beautiful. I was very happy." Garrick tries to suppress it, but a yawn escapes. "Would you like to rest a bit?" you ask immediately.

"No. I want to spend every second we have with you."

Your heart flutters and warmth spreads through your entire body. You take Garrick's hand and pull him over to the bed.

You cuddle up tightly. It's a little tight, especially since Garrick has gained a lot of muscle since the last time you were here. It doesn't bother you, just one more reason to snuggle even closer to him. You breathe in his scent, finally feeling like being home again. Garrick's hand gently strokes your back.

Garrick talks about Basgiath, Xaden, and Sgaeyl, about flying and how good it feels. About his lessons, sparring. He only tells you the good things, and you're glad for that. You don't want any more fuel for your worries. Again and again, he steals a kiss from your lips. The whole night passes like this, and you wish time would stand still.

But at some point, he sighs sadly. Immediately, your body tenses and your heart clenches. You know it is time to say goodbye again.

"I don't want you to leave." you bury your face in the crook of his neck, pressing a quick kiss to the skin of his neck.

Garrick presses a kiss to the top of your head. "I don't want to go either," he says, his voice husky. You feel him swallow before he takes a deep breath and then sits up with you in his arms. You clutch your shirt, wanting to hold on tight. He shouldn't go back to this death factory. He should stay with you. Tears burn in your eyes.

"Hey, Honey. Please don't cry. I'll be back as soon as I can," he says, but his grip on your hip tightens.

"Promise?" you ask, giving in to the urge to lean in and kiss him before he even can answer. Garrick pulls you close, kissing you as if you'd never see each other again. But then he pulls away, quickly swinging himself out of bed.

"Don't look at me like that. How can I leave when you look at me like that?"

"You're not supposed to leave." you grip his hand tighter, as if he wouldn't be able to tear himself away easily. You get out of bed as well. You're slightly tense from lying cuddled up to Garrick for hours. You don't care.

A quiet laugh shakes his chest. You walk over to him and wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face in his chest. "I don't want to go. But I have to," he whispers.

"I know," you say. You hold on to him for a moment longer before you manage to pull away.

Garrick twists his wrist, and all the mage lights around you, except for a small, warm, shimmering one, go out. They simply disappear as if they were never there.

"I'll be back. Until then: Whenever you're worried, look at my mage light. As long as it's lit, I'm alive.”

You stare at the soft glow and nod. "Okay," you whisper, tears gathering in your eyes again, but you stay strong. You know it has to go. Iif his absence is noticed, he'll be in big trouble.

Deserters die by dragon fire. The thought makes you shake yourself before you turn your attention back to Garrick.

You look at him closely, trying to memorize him exactly. His smile, the dimples, his warm hazel eyes that look down at you full of love.

He leans forward again, your lips meet. You try to pour all your love and longing for him into this kiss. You let the warmth in your body carry you away as his lips move perfectly against his.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

You blink and he is gone. You're alone again. What's left is just his small mage light. Your heart is a little lighter than before, and you breathe deeply. His scent still lingers in your room. You can't help but smile. Garrick has found a way to make the distance between you less painful until you finally enter the Healer Quadrant.

Confidence spreads through you. When you can see Garrick from time to time, the months of separation don't feel so bad anymore.

[barbreadsbooks]

Rhiannon: Are you gonna be part of the problem or part of the solution or Ridoc:Oh problem, definitely. Rhiannon: That wasn’t... It was rhetorical! Ridoc: I actually have some ideas on how to make the problem even funnier than it is.

x

[barbreadsbooks]

days since crying about liam mairi: 0

[barbreadsbooks]

Bliss: Stressful situations

Xaden Riorson x Gamlyn! Reader

Masterlist

The war room was colder than usual, the fire in the hearth crackling low. Maps littered the table. Reports. Threat assessments. Requests from outposts. Royal eyes watching their every move. And silence hung sharp between the Duke and Duchess of Tyrrendor.

“I told you we shouldn’t have promised the supplies yet,” Xaden snapped, pacing. “We don’t have the numbers. We can’t protect everyone.”

Y/n’s jaw clenched. “And what do you want me to do, Xaden? Let them starve?”

“I want you to think, not act on emotions. You’re not just a rider anymore.”

Her eyes flared. “And you’re not just a commander. You’re a leader, my husband—maybe try not treating me like one of your lieutenants.”

Xaden stopped, turning to face her. His voice was low, hard. “You act like your heart is more important than the people depending on us.”

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart stung, like he’d sliced straight through it.

“And you act like your logic is the only thing keeping this duchy alive.” Her voice cracked. “Like you have to carry the world on your own and anyone who cares too loudly is a liability.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“No, don’t,” she said, holding up a hand. “You did. And maybe you’re right. Maybe I do feel too much. But at least I still feel. At least I still remember why we fought, why we bled, and why we lead.”

He flinched like she’d slapped him.

A long, painful silence filled the space between them. Two hearts still aching for each other, but bristling with everything left unsaid.

Y/n swallowed hard and looked away, blinking quickly. “I’m gonna sleep in Ridoc’s quarters tonight.”

Xaden didn’t stop her. His jaw locked, eyes heavy with regret, but he nodded once, barely.

She turned, hand resting on the doorframe. “I love you,” she said softly, without looking back.

“I love you too,” he whispered, but she was already gone.

And the war room fell silent again—colder than ever.

The hallway outside Ridoc’s quarters was dim, lit only by the low hum of lanterns along the stone walls. Xaden stood there, silent for a long moment, knuckles hovering just short of the door.

He hated this. The tension. The space between them. The weight of the fight still clinging to his chest like ash.

They had promised—no matter what, they wouldn’t go to sleep angry.

So he knocked.

The door creaked open a few seconds later, revealing Ridoc shirtless, hair a mess, blinking like he’d just been dragged out of the deepest sleep imaginable.

“What,” Ridoc said flatly, narrowing his eyes, “do you want, Riorson?”

Xaden didn’t hesitate. “I need to see her.”

Ridoc sighed, scratching the back of his head. “She’s asleep. Or trying to be.”

“I just... We never go to bed mad. That’s always been our rule.”

Ridoc leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed now, brows drawn together. “And normally, I’d tell you to get in there and fix it.” A pause. “But not tonight.”

Xaden stiffened. “Ridoc—”

“She’s hurting. You’re hurting. You both said things you regret, but if you go in there right now, raw and exhausted, it might make it worse.” His tone wasn’t cruel, just… protective. Steady. “Let her breathe, Xaden. Let her rest.”

Xaden looked down, jaw clenching. “I hate this.”

Ridoc sighed. “Yeah. Me too.” He stepped forward just a bit. “But she’s my sister, and you’re my friend. So trust me when I say—give her the night. Talk to her tomorrow when your head isn’t still clouded with war maps and guilt.”

The weight of it all settled over Xaden’s shoulders, but he finally nodded.

“Tell her…” His voice cracked slightly. “Tell her I still love her.”

Ridoc’s expression softened just a touch. “She knows.”

And then the door closed gently.

Xaden stood there for a long while, staring at the wood. Then he turned back toward their quarters, empty and cold without her—counting down the hours until morning.

Y/n sat on the edge of Ridoc’s bed, legs drawn up to her chest, hair messily braided over one shoulder. She hadn’t slept much. Not with the argument still echoing in her mind, not with the hollow ache of regret lodged deep in her chest.

She heard Ridoc move about quietly in the adjoining room, giving her space. Always giving her space when she needed it most.

But then came the soft knock at the door.

Her heart stilled.

Ridoc’s voice drifted in, quiet and almost amused. “It’s for you.”

She blinked. Stood. Walked toward the door like her body moved on instinct, not entirely ready—but still needing to see him.

Xaden was there, in the hallway. Dark circles under his eyes. Hands tucked in the pockets of his coat like he didn’t know what else to do with them. And when his eyes lifted to meet hers—

Gods.

There was so much in that look.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice rough with sleep and guilt. “For everything I said. For the way I snapped. For forgetting I’m not doing this alone.”

She blinked, throat tightening. “I said things I didn’t mean either.”

He took a slow step closer. “You were right about the pressure. About how I shut you out sometimes. But I need you. Not just beside me in court. I need you.”

A pause.

“I hate waking up without you.”

Y/n’s breath hitched. Her walls crumbled.

And before she could think twice, she stepped into his arms, burying her face into his chest as his arms wrapped around her tightly, like he’d never let go again.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she whispered.

“Me neither,” he murmured into her hair. “It’s like the air goes still when you’re not near me.”

She laughed softly against his chest, then pulled back just enough to cup his face.

“We’re both learning,” she said, brushing her thumb over his cheekbone. “And we’ll keep learning. Together.”

He leaned down, forehead pressed to hers. “Together.”

And when their lips met, it was slow. Healing. The kind of kiss that sealed the cracks they’d caused in the night.

Later that morning, when they returned to their own quarters hand in hand—Ridoc took one look at them, grumbled something about “soft idiots,” and walked away with a smirk.

But the way Xaden kept his hand tightly clasped in hers?

Y/n knew they’d be just fine.

They sat together in their quarters, curled on the couch beneath a shared blanket. The first light of morning filtered through the windows, golden and soft, casting a glow over the room. The fire in the hearth crackled low, comforting. Xaden had made tea—well, burnt it slightly—but Y/n still sipped it like it was the best thing she’d ever tasted.

They hadn’t said much since returning, just stayed close. Reassuring. Steadying.

Finally, Y/n broke the silence.

“I hate that we let them get to us,” she said softly, staring into her mug. “The advisors, the court, the expectations. I feel like I’m constantly trying to prove that I belong here… and sometimes I wonder if I’m failing.”

Xaden looked over at her, something dark and fierce softening in his expression. “You’re not failing. You never were. They don’t know the woman who’s won battles and built bridges with her bare hands. They don’t see what I see.”

She looked up at him. “And what do you see?”

His voice lowered, steady and sure. “A force of nature in pearls and gold. The strongest person in any room—and the kindest. The reason I can even breathe through any of this.”

Y/n blinked fast. “I just… I want to do this right. For Tyrrendor. For us.”

“You are,” he said, gently taking her tea and setting it aside. His hand came to rest on her knee, thumb brushing in circles. “But we can’t forget us in all this. I think I got so wrapped up in the title—trying to be who my father never could be—that I stopped listening.”

“And I stopped giving you the benefit of the doubt,” she admitted. “I forgot that it’s always been us against the world.”

He leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to her temple. “Then let’s remember it now.”

She leaned into him, her voice muffled against his neck. “We promised to always talk before bed. No more silence. Even when it’s messy.”

“No more silence,” he echoed, wrapping his arms tighter around her. “And maybe fewer meetings at sunrise.”

Y/n laughed softly. “Agreed.”

They stayed there for a long time. No thrones, no court, no titles—just Y/n and Xaden, reminding each other that their love had always been the strongest thing they carried.

Author's note: IM CRYING?! I can't believe this is over. This story meant so much to me! I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing and reading it. I have a small surprise for you guys and it is that I made a Of Light and Shadow incorrect post cause I wanted something cute. It will be linked to the masterlist. As for updates, I currently have a post with all my drafts so be sure to check it out to know more of my next project from The Empyrean Universe. Thank you so much for reading!

Next Story selections

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[barbreadsbooks]

Bliss: Just Pure Love

Xaden Riorson x Gamlyn! Reader

Masterlist

Random moments where they are just so deeply in love

Basgaith Era, Pre-Dating

Xaden was deep in thought, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall of the commons, reviewing the latest quadrant assignments on a small parchment. The sun filtering through the stone windows caught the angles of his face, painting him in gold and shadow. Y/n sat nearby, pretending to read, but her eyes flicked toward him with growing mischief.

She had just finished applying a bold new lipstick—a deep crimson that matched the fire in her veins. She pressed her lips together, assessing the pigment’s hold, then smirked.

He hadn’t even looked up.

Typical.

She closed her book with a snap and rose from her seat, the corner of her mouth twitching. “Xaden,” she said lightly, and he finally looked up, brow slightly raised in curiosity.

“Walk with me?” she asked, sweet as ever.

He tilted his head, suspicious of her tone but already slipping the parchment into his pocket. “Sure.”

They wandered down one of the quieter corridors near the archery training halls, the air dimmer, quieter, and completely empty.

Y/n glanced up at him with mock-innocence. “I need your help with something.”

Xaden raised a brow, a subtle smirk forming. “That sounds dangerous.”

“Oh, it is.” She turned to face him, stepping into his space before he could process it. “Hold still.”

Before he could question her, she pressed her lips to his cheek—then another kiss to his jaw—then one just under his ear. His breath caught, eyes widening, stunned still.

“Y/n—”

“Shh,” she whispered, grinning. “I’m testing something.”

Then her lips met his—soft, teasing, coaxing—and he all but melted. His hands found her hips before he realized they had moved, his mind blank except for the feel of her, the scent of her perfume, and the taste of wild cherries.

By the time she finally pulled back, they were both breathless.

She looked up at him, cheeks flushed, and tapped her chin with mock thoughtfulness. “Hmm. It’s long-lasting, but not smudge-proof. Good to know.”

Xaden could only blink, still dazed, lips slightly parted.

She smoothed her smudged lipstick with one finger, glanced at him, and winked. “Thanks for being my test subject.”

Then she turned on her heel and walked away, like she hadn’t just turned his entire afternoon upside down.

As she rounded the corner, Garrick strolled by, did a double take, and stopped dead in his tracks.

Xaden was standing there, flushed, breathing a little too hard, and absolutely covered in crimson lipstick marks—his jaw, his cheek, his neck, and one vivid, perfect kiss at the corner of his mouth.

Garrick’s eyes widened, then he grinned like the bastard he was. “You good, Riorson?”

Xaden exhaled slowly, a smirk curling across his lips. “Never better.”

And Garrick just cackled as he walked away, already planning how he was going to tell the squad.

A Quiet Moment in His Arms

The late afternoon light filtered through the tall windows of their private study, warm and golden, casting a gentle glow on the room’s stone walls and soft furnishings. The door was shut, the world blissfully far away. In that golden silence, Y/n sat straddling Xaden’s lap, facing him, her arms draped loosely around his neck as she told him about her day—her voice light and animated, her laughter rippling like sunlight on water.

She absentmindedly played with the short hairs at the nape of his neck, her fingers brushing delicately through them, curling them around her fingertips, and smoothing them out again. Her eyes sparkled, her cheeks flushed with the joy of simple conversation. She was barefoot, relaxed, still in one of his tunics that hung soft and loose off her shoulder, and to Xaden, she had never looked more like home.

He didn’t say much. Didn’t need to. He was just looking at her—utterly captivated.

Her voice faded into the background as he took her in: the way the sunlight kissed the high points of her face, how her curls framed her jaw like a halo, how her smile tugged at something deep inside him and made his chest ache with a love so consuming it was almost unbearable. She smelled faintly of their soap and citrus, her skin warm from the bath they’d taken earlier, and her presence wrapped around him like a lullaby.

Y/n paused mid-story, noticing his silence.

Her fingers stilled. “You’re not even listening to me, are you?” she asked, amused, her head tilting slightly.

“I am,” he murmured, voice rough around the edges. “I just... I’m trying to commit this to memory. The way you look right now. The way you smell. The sound of your voice. Everything.”

She blinked, caught off guard.

He leaned in and pressed his forehead gently to hers, his hand finding the small of her back, grounding her against him. “You’re so beautiful it makes me stupid sometimes.”

Y/n laughed, soft and surprised, her nose brushing his. “You’ve always been stupid around me, Riorson.”

“Only for you,” he whispered, his smile crooked as he kissed the corner of her mouth. “Always for you.”

She melted then, arms tightening around his neck, her forehead resting against his as her fingers resumed their gentle play. The moment stretched, slow and sacred, both of them suspended in it—no war, no titles, no pressure. Just her. Just him.

Just love.

That's My Wife

The estate was quiet, bathed in the golden hush of late afternoon light. The festival had passed, the estate buzz faded to a lull, and for once—once—they had no pressing duties, no messages, no interruptions.

Y/n was sitting on the windowsill of their chambers, one leg curled beneath her, the other dangling, a book in hand and a soft hum on her lips. Her curls were loose, catching the light like silk, her neckline brushed with saltwater and sun, still wearing one of his shirts from the morning. The one with the slightly stretched collar and faint ink smudge from when she wrote letters.

Xaden walked in and paused.

Just… paused.

Because godsdamnit, that was his wife.

His.

The woman who used to roll her eyes at his flirting, who used to nudge him with teasing smiles and pretend she wasn’t watching him train. The woman who wore Tyrish silk like armor and light like a crown. The one who fought for their people, for him, for their future—and who now sat barefoot, humming like she belonged nowhere else but in that very moment.

He crossed the room in four strides.

“Xaden?” she asked, glancing up just as he reached her.

He didn’t answer.

He kissed her.

Hands on her waist, lips pressed to hers like it had been months instead of hours, like he needed to make up for every second he wasn’t touching her. She laughed against his mouth, soft and surprised, one hand gripping his shirt.

“What’s gotten into you?” she murmured, breathless.

“You,” he muttered, pulling back just to kiss her again. And again. And again.

On her cheek, her jaw, the corner of her mouth, down her neck. He couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop.

She giggled, warmth blooming in her chest. “Xaden—”

“That’s my wife,” he muttered like a prayer between kisses. “My godsdamn wife.”

She melted into him, fingers threading into his hair. “Yours.”

Forever and always, in every stolen kiss and every breathless laugh.

They Don’t Even Notice

Outside their chamber door, Ridoc froze.

He had come with a very valid reason—well, somewhat valid, depending on who you asked. A new delivery of wine had arrived and he needed Y/n’s opinion before the kitchen staff hoarded the best bottles. That was fair. Logical. Entirely noble of him, really.

What he hadn’t expected was to open the door (because knocking was clearly not something he understood) and be hit with the full force of domestic, married bliss.

Xaden had Y/n wrapped in his arms like she was made of stars and honey. Her book had long since fallen to the floor, forgotten, and she was giggling into his mouth between kisses that were entirely too much for his poor brotherly brain to handle. Xaden’s hand was under the hem of her shirt—his shirt, obviously—and his lips were tracing a line just under her jaw, whispering something low that made her sigh and tug him closer.

“They don’t even notice me,” Ridoc muttered, scandalized.

Behind him, Sawyer peeked in, widened his eyes, and slowly backed away like he’d just witnessed a war crime.

“Leave them,” Rhiannon whispered, appearing behind them both with a smirk. “Let them have their moment.”

“They’re always having a moment,” Ridoc hissed. “Do they even eat anymore?”

“They definitely do,” Violet muttered, sipping her tea behind them and then, pointedly, “just not at our table.”

Garrick chuckled from where he was lounging against the hallway wall, arms crossed. “He’s not letting her go anytime soon. You know that, right?”

“She married him, not fused to him!” Ridoc hissed. “I need my sister back!”

Back in the room, Y/n was giggling breathlessly, curled in Xaden’s lap now, arms draped lazily around his neck as he kissed her again, then her temple, then whispered something in her ear that made her blush and swat at his chest.

“Let’s just wait until they come up for air,” Rhiannon grinned.

“They never come up for air,” Ridoc groaned. “We’re never getting her back, are we?”

“Not a chance,” Violet laughed.

And inside, completely unaware of their very not-private privacy being invaded, Xaden pressed his forehead to Y/n’s and whispered, “Mine.”

Her smile turned soft, luminous. “Yours.”

Part tree sprite

Xaden slowed to a stop in the middle of the training field, something tugging at the edge of his senses. The bond hummed with quiet contentment—not worry, not danger, but… peace.

He followed it like a string, brow furrowing as he passed the edge of the trees, scanning the area. And then he spotted it. Her.

There, nestled between the sturdy branches of a tall oak, lay Y/n, one leg hanging lazily off the side, her dark curls tied loosely with a ribbon, swaying with the breeze. Her fingers toyed with one of the small shells from her necklace, eyes half-closed against the late afternoon sun.

Xaden stared up at her, utterly baffled and entirely endeared.

“Can my wife explain to me why on earth she’s in a tree?” he called out, folding his arms, one brow raised.

Y/n blinked down at him and grinned. “Why wouldn’t I be in a tree?”

He blinked slowly, lips twitching. “Not exactly standard duchess behavior.”

“Maybe not,” she said, sitting up and stretching like a cat. “But back home, I used to climb this huge ceiba by the sea. I’d lay up there for hours just listening to the wind in the branches and the ocean in the distance.” She paused, eyes softening. “It felt a little like home up here.”

Xaden’s amusement melted into tenderness, the way it always did with her.

“I should’ve known you’d be part tree sprite,” he muttered, shaking his head fondly.

Y/n giggled and held out her hand. “Wanna come up?”

He gave the tree an unimpressed look. “I’d rather not break my spine impressing my tree-scaling wife.”

“Your loss. Great view up here.”

He just smiled, stepping closer so he could rest his hand on her ankle where it dangled. “No better view than the one I’ve got now.”

Her heart gave a little flutter. “Smooth.”

“I try.”

She leaned down and kissed the top of his head. “Thanks for finding me.”

“Always,” he said, brushing his thumb over her ankle like a silent vow.

And even though he didn’t climb up, he stayed right there below her, watching the breeze rustle the leaves and her smile, until the sun dipped low.

Spiderkiss

Xaden had just walked out of the strategy meeting when he heard soft humming above. His steps slowed, instinctively scanning the treetops, already half-expecting what he might find.

Sure enough, perched on one of the sturdier branches of the same damn tree she'd claimed as her “thinking spot,” Y/n was moving about in that confident, feline way she always had when climbing—barefoot, nimble, sure.

Except this time, she did something he absolutely did not expect.

She flipped.

Effortlessly. Gracefully.

One moment she was crouched on the branch like a lounging bird, and the next, she was dangling upside down by her knees—ribboned curls swaying like a pendulum, charm bracelet jingling faintly, golden piercings glinting in the sun.

“Y/n—” Xaden froze mid-step, heart stuttering. “By the gods, what are you—?”

“Hi, handsome,” she said sweetly, upside down, her smile downright mischievous.

And then she cupped his face in both hands and pulled him in for a kiss.

It wasn’t gentle, it was fun—all lips and laughter and tangled breath as her legs wobbled a little with the shift in gravity, and he instinctively grabbed her waist to steady her.

The kiss deepened just enough to make him forget she was upside down and he was very much not in control of the situation.

When she finally pulled back, giggling, she smirked down at his stunned expression. “Been waiting all day to try that.”

Xaden blinked. “You just—kissed me upside down.”

“Yep,” she said proudly, still hanging. “Spider-Rider kiss. Pretty badass, huh?”

He let out a slow breath, hands still on her waist. “You’re going to give me a damn heart attack one day.”

She beamed. “But I’ll kiss you better after.”

He growled softly, brushing his knuckles along her jaw. “Don’t test me, Y/n Gamlyn-Riorson.”

“You love being tested,” she teased, flipping down in a smooth arc to land right in front of him.

Xaden stared at her, totally disarmed.

And then he kissed her again, right-side up this time—just to prove that no matter which way gravity pulled, he’d always fall for her.

You will always catch me

They were scouting a cliffside near Tyrrendor—Y/n and Xaden moving ahead while the rest of the team surveyed the lower terrain. The sky was soft with the pink hue of approaching dusk, wind rustling through the sparse trees that clung to the rocks.

“Xaden,” she called from above, standing on a jagged outcrop a good few feet higher than where he stood below.

He looked up, immediately tense. “Y/n. Don’t.”

Her grin was wild and full of mischief. “Catch me?”

His eyes widened. “Don’t you dare—”

She jumped.

The air caught in his lungs, heart stalling mid-beat, but his arms shot out automatically—because they always would. And just like every time before, he caught her perfectly.

The force of it rocked him a step back, but she was safe in his arms, weight curled against his chest, laughing breathlessly.

Xaden just stood there, clutching her to him, glowering down at her with wide, frantic eyes. “Do you want me to die?” he growled. “Like genuinely, Y/n. Do you want to give your husband a godsdamned heart attack?”

She smiled, soft and warm, brushing her fingers along his jaw. “I’ll always trust you to catch me.”

His breath hitched—because those words... those words wrecked him. He buried his face in her neck for a moment, letting her heartbeat calm his own, arms tightening around her.

Then she pulled back and kissed him—slow and sure and sweet. A promise. A thank you. A declaration.

Xaden exhaled against her lips, muttering, “You are infuriating, you know that?”

She just smirked. “You love me.”

He kissed her again. “I really do.”

And as he carried her down from the rocks like she weighed nothing, still cradled in his arms, she rested her head against his shoulder, whispering, “Always.”

My man

Y/n was sprawled across a couch in the war room lounge, her cheek resting dramatically on her palm, her lips forming an exaggerated pout. Rhiannon sat on one side, Violet on the other, both pretending to be deeply invested in a set of reports while sneakily watching her.

With a soft, mournful sigh, Y/n muttered, “I miss my man…”

Rhiannon immediately bit down on her lip to stifle a laugh. Violet nudged her with her elbow, her voice barely above a whisper. “You do know he’s literally in the room, right?”

And sure enough, from across the room where he’d been speaking with Garrick, Xaden turned at the sound of her voice, one dark brow lifting. “Y/n,” he called out, slowly making his way toward her, “what do you mean you miss your man? I’m right here.”

Y/n, still fully committed to her dramatics, gave him a long, yearning look. “No,” she said wistfully, “I miss my man.”

He stopped right in front of her, arms crossing as he narrowed his eyes with mock suspicion. “Define your man.”

She blinked up at him, all faux innocence. “Tall, broody, shadow-wielding. Smells like mint and arrogance. Really good with a sword. Loves me stupid.”

He stared at her, deadpan. “Y/n. That’s literally me.”

She tilted her head playfully. “Then why don’t I feel like it right now?”

Violet covered her mouth with both hands, practically shaking with suppressed laughter. Rhiannon lost it entirely, snorting into her sleeve.

Xaden leaned in closer, eyes narrowing further, but there was the faintest upward twitch of a smirk on his lips. “You’re going to regret this, wife.”

“I doubt it,” Y/n teased, grinning now. “I like making you jealous. It's cute.”

“Cute,” he repeated under his breath, before leaning down and planting a kiss on her pouty mouth with such slow, deliberate affection that both Violet and Rhiannon groaned in mock agony behind them.

Rhiannon fanned herself dramatically. “Okay, I miss your man too now. Thanks a lot.”

Taglist: @eepyfaerie @dreamdragonkadia @hiraethjules @nikfigueiredo @galaxystern08 @taleiaargenis @minidemont @poeticbookwormcat @eternallyrosefire @shadowhuntyi @messageforthesmallestman @iheartshopping @fangirling-galore @nesiris21 @itsbeenmyhonor @stelena-klayley @littlemissperfecttt @lagrandeourse @readinf @barbreadsbooks @profoundpizzasong @optimisticsoulstarfish @locatinginspo @lxnvmvrzx @im-a-weirdo-for-life @laterria201 @bestillmystuckyheart @casiiopea2 @ineednewdaggers @fictionalrelapse @smileysunshinesworld @perfectwrites @soccerstarstories @whosethatnotme @muffin-baby @thatonegameaddict

[barbreadsbooks]

Bliss: Her Birthday

Xaden Riorson x Gamlyn! Reader

Masterlist

Y/n didn’t know what to expect when she read the note on her pillow that morning.

Meet me where we first argued about shadows and stubbornness.

A quiet smile had touched her lips. Of course he remembered. Of course Xaden Riorson, the most observant, infuriating, maddeningly perfect man she'd ever known, would take her back to the place where it all began.

Now, standing at the edge of that windswept cliff near the old overlook — the very same one where she’d once rolled her eyes at his brooding silences — she couldn’t breathe.

Because it was glowing.

Dozens of floating lanterns bobbed gently in the breeze, casting golden halos over the field of soft grass. Enchanted orbs drifted like fireflies. A canopy stood at the center, draped in gauzy white and Tyrrish reds, the colors of their home. Under it, a table set for two shimmered with candlelight.

And standing at its edge — black shirt unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up, seashell necklace glinting at his collar — was her husband.

Xaden turned slowly, smile lazy, warm.

“You’re early.”

Y/n walked forward, heart a wild, fluttering thing in her chest. “You said sunset.”

“I did. But I also said where we argued. And you always liked winning,” he teased, stepping forward and taking her hands in his. “Happy birthday, Y/n Riorson.”

Her name on his tongue felt like a promise every time. She looked around, wide-eyed, touched beyond words. “Xaden… this is—”

“Just the start.”

He led her under the canopy, pulled her chair out for her — because yes, the man was still a menace and a gentleman in equal measure — and they sat. The table was lined with her favorite dishes: warm Tyrrish spice bread, rich cheeses, fresh strawberries, and sweets she hadn’t tasted since visiting her village.

She gave him a look.

He raised a brow. “I had the baker travel here. I may have threatened him. A little.”

She laughed, heart aching with love.

But the true surprise came when he set a leather-bound book in front of her. Her name was embossed in gold. She opened it, fingers trembling, and inside was a handwritten page for every day since they got married.

Day 1: She smiled at me like I was everything. Day 74: She wore that cursed dress that made me forget how to form sentences. Day 143: She defended me before I could even speak. Day 365: She told me she didn’t need stars, because she had me.

Tears spilled over before she could stop them.

“I wrote one every day,” Xaden said quietly. “So you’d never question how much I love you. How much I see you. How much I still fall, every single damn day.”

She reached for him across the table, pulled him into the most tender kiss. One filled with everything: awe, gratitude, the breathless kind of love that never left.

And then, under the floating lights, they danced.

No music but the wind, the rustling grass, and the beat of her heart against his.

The next morning, Y/n walked into the dining hall glowing.

Literally glowing.

She was wearing one of her old favorite robes, her hair braided with fresh jasmine, and her lips curved into a smile that told everyone exactly how her night had gone.

“Okay, what the hell?” Ridoc squinted at her. “You’re radiant. You were either blessed by the gods or—” He paused. “Nope. It was definitely Xaden.”

“I’ve never seen her look this smug,” Rhiannon said, biting into a pastry. “This is suspicious.”

Sawyer leaned in. “Do we know what happened?”

Garrick just pointed his fork. “I bet he did that thing where he reads her poetry with his shirt off.”

Y/n only snorts in amusement.

That’s when Xaden walked in, carrying her tea. Shirtless. Again.

Ridoc groaned. “You’re enabling this!”

Xaden kissed Y/n’s temple. “She deserves the world.”

Violet, already sipping her tea, sighed with a smile. “Honestly? I’m jealous.”

Imogen raised her cup and mocks seriousness. “To marrying soft-hearted, dangerous men who write us love journals.”

Quinn clinked hers back. “Hear, hear.”

Y/n leaned into Xaden’s side, sipping from the cup he’d brought her, eyes locked on him with unshakable affection.

And everyone in that room — friends, family, rebels, warriors — knew one thing for certain:

The heart of Tyrrendor had never beat stronger than in the hands of its duchess and the man who would spend a lifetime proving he was worthy of her.

It started suspiciously.

The day after her very romantic private birthday with Xaden, Y/n awoke to a note left on her nightstand.

Do not ask questions. Wear something you don’t mind getting glitter on. Come to the war room at noon. - R

She blinked. Glitter?

When she arrived, slightly wary, she found the war room dark. Silent.

Then—

“SURPRISE, DUCHESS!”

The lights blazed to life — and her entire squad (and then some) burst out from behind a ridiculous pile of poorly wrapped presents and rainbow streamers that definitely weren’t regulation-approved.

Confetti flew.

Rhiannon and Violet had strung Tyrrish red and Ceaelyan silver banners across the ceiling. Imogen was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a rare smile on her face. Even Quinn had helped rig up a shimmering illusion that spelled “Happy Birthday, Y/n!” in floating gold letters above the table.

“Oh my gods,” Y/n gasped, hands to her mouth.

“This,” Ridoc said dramatically, tossing glitter into the air like flower petals, “is the party you deserve, little sister.”

“You did not need to use the glitter,” Imogen muttered.

“I used all of it!” he declared proudly.

Sawyer grinned as he pulled her toward the dessert table. “We have three cakes. Three. One of them is dragon-shaped, and one of them is filled with tiny explosive sparkles. Guess who made which.”

“Please tell me Violet didn’t make the one with actual explosives,” Y/n muttered.

“She absolutely did,” Rhiannon said brightly.

The squad had clearly gone all out. There were little cupcakes decorated with her seashell necklace design. The drinks were color-coded to match her favorite nail polish shades (Sawyer swore this was Rhiannon’s idea, but she swore it was his).

One corner of the room had a photo wall of the worst possible shots of Y/n from their years in Basgaith, curated by Ridoc and Quinn. Another corner had a tiny “pamper station” stocked with lotions, nail polish, and glitter body oil labeled Duchess Essentials.

Y/n couldn’t stop laughing.

Xaden walked in an hour later — wearing a clean tunic, barely hiding his suspicion — only to stop short when he saw the chaos.

“Oh no,” he muttered.

“Xaden!” Ridoc clapped him on the shoulder. “Welcome to the glitter zone!”

He glanced down. “You got it on my boots.”

“You’re married now. Her glitter is your glitter.”

Rhiannon looped her arm through Y/n’s. “You should’ve seen her face when she walked in. Absolute royalty.”

Xaden’s eyes softened as they found Y/n’s, taking in her wide smile, the way she’d let her curls run wild, gold glitter dusting her cheeks.

He crossed the room to her and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I love seeing you like this.”

“I love them,” she whispered back, heart full to the brim. “But please don’t let them put more glitter in our bed.”

“No promises,” Sawyer called out from behind them. “It’s already in your sheets.”

Everyone laughed.

Y/n did, too — bright and free and untamed. Her cheeks ached from smiling, her stomach from laughing.

Because she had everything: her love, her people, and a kingdom’s worth of affection wrapped in chaos, cake, and confetti.

The squad was still half-covered in glitter, lounging across chairs and floor cushions as the last crumbs of cake disappeared and the laughter began to settle.

Y/n had tucked herself against Xaden’s side on the long bench beneath the window, her cheek resting against his shoulder, fingers lazily tracing the edge of his sleeve.

“I still can’t believe you all did this,” she murmured.

“I can,” Xaden said dryly. “I saw the glitter order come in.”

Ridoc, from the other side of the room: “Worth. Every. Coin.”

Xaden ignored him, gently tilting Y/n’s chin up with a finger. “But… I’m afraid your birthday isn’t quite over yet.”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

He smiled — and gods, it was the soft one, the one he reserved only for her. “The villagers. They planned a festival.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“They’ve been working on it for weeks. Decorations, food stalls, a parade. There’s music, I think a few dragon-shaped lanterns, something about a ‘Duchess Delicacy’ that sounds suspiciously like cake dipped in rum.”

She laughed, her heart cracking open with joy again.

“You’re serious?”

Xaden nodded. “They care about you. And today is… well, it’s not just your birthday. It’s the first one you’re celebrating as their duchess, fully and openly. They want to show you how much they love you.”

She blinked fast, then nodded, biting back tears.

“Better change into something that won’t clash with fireworks,” he added with a smirk, brushing his knuckles across her jaw.

From behind them, Sawyer perked up like a wolf at the word festival.

“Wait. Did someone say festival?”

Rhiannon sat up straighter. “Like with dancing and food stalls and music?”

Xaden turned to them with the most leaderly tone he could muster while holding back a grin. “If you want to come, you might want to change. Y/n’s not the only one who looks like she’s been in a glitter explosion.”

Ridoc pouted. “But glitter is festive!”

Imogen stood up, already dragging Quinn by the arm. “Nope. I want real clothes. You’re not getting glitter on me again.”

Y/n shook her head, laughing, before turning back to her husband. “You really helped organize a whole village celebration for me?”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss just behind her ear.

“For you?” he whispered. “I’d organize the stars if I could.”

The village square had been transformed into something out of a storybook.

Strung lanterns swayed between rooftops, glowing softly in the early evening light — delicate orbs shaped like dragons, like violets, like seashells. Silk banners in rich reds, warm golds, and deep blue-black fluttered gently in the breeze. Stalls brimmed with handmade jewelry, sweets drizzled in honey and rose syrup, and steaming platters of roasted meats and flatbread. Music drifted through the air — fiddles, drums, the low hum of flutes — as dancers twirled barefoot in the open space near the firepits.

Y/n stepped into the square in a flowing dress of Tyrish red, her curls pinned half-up with gold clips and her charm bracelet clinking gently at her wrist. Her new necklace of duchhess nestled just above her usual pearl choker.

And beside her, hand in hers, was Xaden.

In a black shirt rolled up at the sleeves, his own charm — a matching necklace shell — tied at his wrist. His dark eyes weren’t on the crowd, though. They were on her.

Always on her.

The moment the villagers spotted her, the cheer was instant.

“She’s here!” “Our duchess!” “Y/n!” “Look at her, gods—she’s glowing!”

Dozens surged forward with joyful restraint — hands clasped to hearts, wide grins, respectful bows. Children ran by her skirts, laughing. An old baker placed a flower behind her ear. One of the smiths shook her hand so hard it made her giggle.

“Welcome home,” someone whispered reverently, and her heart clenched.

Xaden didn’t let go of her once. He let her pull him along, his grip steady, grounding — but his gaze never stopped watching her. And the villagers noticed.

From fruit-sellers to weavers to guards, they all exchanged the same quiet glance: That’s his whole damn heart walking in silk and laughing with the healers’ children.

He didn’t need to say a word. The softness in his eyes when she hugged an elder, the way his shoulders relaxed when she laughed — that was enough.

Later, under the lantern glow, someone handed Y/n a ribboned flute of sweet wine and told her it was “Duchess' Delight.” She cackled. Xaden sipped it, made a face, and said it tasted like sugar and power.

“I am sugar and power,” she replied, kissing his cheek.

He pulled her close. “You’re everything.”

They danced until the stars were high and the market hummed with joy. The duchess was back — not just in name, but in spirit. And with her returned the heartbeat of the duchy.

The music had slowed to a gentle lull — violins humming in the background like the sound of wind in high branches — when someone called for a toast.

It started with the baker’s wife, raising her glass and calling out, “To our duchess!”

Others followed, a wave of voices rising in the market square under the lantern light.

“To Y/n!”

“To the heart of Tyrrendor!”

“To the one who always shines!”

Y/n blinked, caught between laughter and sudden emotion, her hand over her heart as her eyes shimmered in the firelight.

Then Xaden stepped forward.

He didn’t raise his voice, but the moment he moved, the crowd fell silent. It was the kind of stillness reserved for storms and saints. He held his goblet in one hand, the other resting gently at the small of Y/n’s back.

His eyes swept the crowd — proud, calm, and undeniably in love.

“She’s been called a duchess, a warrior, a leader,” he began, voice low and rough like gravel soaked in honey. “But before all of that, she was the one who made us believe Tyrrendor could be more than just a name. That it could be a home.”

Y/n looked at him, stunned, her lips parted. But he wasn’t done.

“She brings light into war rooms. Laughter into grief. And wherever she goes, people remember how to hope.” A pause. “I know I did.”

A few gasps, a sniffle or two, some giggles when Ridoc muttered something like oh for the love of all that is holy. But no one looked away.

Xaden raised his goblet.

“To the woman who gave this place a heart. Who gave me mine.”

He looked directly at her, his voice quieter now.

“To my wife. My duchess. My Y/n.”

A roar of applause and cheers echoed through the square, glasses clinking, children shouting “Y/n!” like a song.

She laughed through the tears, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder.

“Gods, I love you,” she whispered against his chest.

“I know,” he murmured, smug and soft as he kissed her temple. “But say it again.”

She did — three more times, just to feel his smile.

The festival lights were still flickering behind them, music and laughter echoing faintly across the hills, but Y/n tugged at his hand with a soft smile and a whisper only meant for him:

“Come with me.”

Xaden didn’t ask where — he never needed to. He just followed, lacing their fingers together as they slipped away from the lantern-lit square, down the winding path past the wild thyme and sea lavender, until the dirt gave way to cool sand and the hush of waves welcomed them like an old lullaby.

The moon hung low and full over the water, casting everything in a soft glow. Y/n dropped her shoes and walked barefoot, her skirts in one hand, the other never letting go of his.

“I always come back here,” she said quietly. “Even in my dreams. Even when I felt lost.”

Xaden slowed, watching her toes sink into the sand, the sea breeze catching the curls around her face, tugging gently at the silk ribbons in her hair. “It makes sense,” he said. “It’s where you’re most yourself.”

She glanced at him, the kind of look that held lifetimes. “And you? Where do you feel most yourself?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Right here.”

Her eyes shimmered. “Xaden—”

“With you,” he clarified softly, stepping closer, brushing a hand down her arm. “Wherever you are.”

She smiled and leaned into him, resting her head against his chest as the waves kissed their ankles. His arms wrapped around her, warm and steady, grounding her in the present after so many storms.

“You really meant all of that?” she murmured. “At the festival?”

He tipped her chin up gently. “Every word.”

“I’m still learning to believe this is all real,” she whispered.

He kissed her forehead. “Then I’ll remind you every day. Every night. Every time the tide rolls in.”

And they stood like that — two souls tangled, salt-kissed and starlit — until the moon moved higher and the ocean whispered secrets only they could understand.

The moonlight shimmered over the gentle waves, painting the shoreline silver. Y/n’s laughter echoed over the sand, warm and wild, as she swung their joined hands between them while they walked, barefoot and relaxed. Xaden, usually so composed, wore the softest smile — the kind reserved only for her.

“You know,” she said, nudging him with her shoulder, “you’re awfully quiet for someone who planned an entire festival for me.”

“I’m admiring the view,” he replied, eyes fixed on her.

She rolled her eyes, but her grin betrayed her. “Smooth.”

They walked in companionable silence for a few more steps, the sound of the waves mingling with the rhythm of their hearts — steady, sure, content.

Then, mischief sparked in her eyes.

Without warning, Y/n kicked up a splash of seawater toward him, droplets catching the moonlight like stars. Xaden froze, blinking, a few drops clinging to his dark curls.

“You didn’t just—”

Y/n took off running, laughing breathlessly as she sprinted down the beach. “You started it by being too handsome!”

“That's your excuse?” he shouted, chasing after her with a grin that lit up his whole face.

She shrieked with delight as he gained on her, sand flying behind them in a blur of adrenaline and affection. She made a sharp turn toward the water, but he was faster. He caught her around the waist, lifting her off the ground as she squealed.

“Xaden!” she laughed, breathless, as he spun her around.

“I warned you,” he murmured against her ear, voice low but playful.

She tilted her head back to meet his gaze, curls tousled, cheeks flushed, eyes shining. “Then what are you going to do about it?”

He answered by lowering her gently to her feet and cupping her face, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then her nose, then finally her lips — slow, lingering, and full of everything they’d fought to get back to.

When they finally pulled apart, she leaned her forehead against his. “You know,” she whispered, “this might be my favorite birthday ever.”

He smiled, running his thumbs along her jaw. “It’s mine too.”

And together, they walked back along the shore — hands swinging again, hearts lighter, the sea carrying their laughter into the night.

The estate was quiet, bathed in the soft golden glow of lanterns as the festival slowly wound down in the village below. Y/n and Xaden moved through the front gates in a rhythm only they shared — slightly tipsy, entirely smitten.

Her heels dangled from his hand, his other arm wrapped protectively around her waist. Y/n was barefoot, dress slightly hitched up, curls tousled from wind and laughter, and cheeks flushed from dancing and wine.

“I told you I could carry my shoes,” she murmured, leaning into him.

“You’ve been dancing for hours,” Xaden said, his voice low and amused. “Let me spoil you.”

“You always do,” she whispered with a grin, eyes soft on him.

At the top of the steps, the familiar sound of hushed laughter met them.

The squad was just coming in through another entrance — Ridoc, Rhiannon, Violet, Sawyer, and Imogen — all a bit windblown from the festivities, still glowing with the energy of the celebration. They paused at the sight of them.

Xaden, shirt sleeves rolled up, slightly undone, carrying her shoes like a man fully, hopelessly in love. And Y/n, gleaming in the lantern light, holding his hand with that unmistakable pull — like gravity worked differently around him.

Sawyer gave a low whistle. “Now that’s a man down bad.”

“Absolutely tragic,” Imogen deadpanned, but the corner of her mouth twitched up.

“Disgusting,” Ridoc muttered dramatically. “He used to be intimidating.”

Rhiannon snorted. “And now he’s letting her lead him upstairs like a love-drunk fool.”

“She is his wife,” Violet said with a smirk, crossing her arms. “Let her drag him.”

Y/n turned, walking backward up the stairs, still pulling Xaden with her. She winked at the squad. “Good night, nosy.”

“Good night, duchess,” Rhiannon called back, grinning.

Xaden just raised his brows at them all, expression unreadable — until he smirked and tossed a wink over his shoulder.

And then they disappeared at the top of the staircase, her laughter echoing faintly behind them, and the squad collectively sighed.

“They’re so disgustingly in love,” Ridoc grumbled, shaking his head.

“And you love it,” Violet replied, nudging him.

“…Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

The door clicked softly shut behind them as Y/n led Xaden into their chambers, her fingers still laced through his. The room was dim, moonlight slipping through the open balcony doors, the gentle sound of the sea breeze rustling the curtains.

Xaden set her shoes down by the door with care, then turned to find her standing by the bed, arms crossed loosely, watching him with that soft, knowing smile that always undid him.

“What?” he asked, his voice husky from wine and devotion.

“You,” she murmured. “Looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m everything.”

He stepped closer, arms sliding around her waist, pulling her flush against him. “That’s because you are.”

Y/n leaned into his chest, her hands resting over his heart, feeling the steady beat beneath her palms. “Today was perfect.”

“You were perfect,” he whispered into her hair. “You always are.”

She chuckled softly. “I tripped during the dancing.”

“And still somehow looked like the most regal woman in the realm while doing it.”

She tilted her head back and looked at him, eyes shining with emotion and amusement. “You’re drunk.”

“Drunk on you,” he said, shameless, kissing her forehead.

Y/n laughed, warm and real, then leaned in and kissed him — slow and sweet, tasting of peach wine and moonlight and the years they’d fought to find their way back to this exact moment.

They melted into each other, the world falling away as Xaden guided her gently to the bed, hands reverent, lips brushing hers again and again, until they were curled beneath the sheets in nothing but skin and contentment.

Her head rested on his chest, his fingers lazily trailing up and down her spine. “Stay right here,” she whispered sleepily.

“Always,” he murmured. “There’s nowhere else I’d ever want to be.”

And in the quiet of their quarters, with only the sea and each other, Y/n Gamlyn Riorson fell asleep in the arms of the man who had always, always been home.

Taglist: @eepyfaerie @dreamdragonkadia @hiraethjules @nikfigueiredo @galaxystern08 @taleiaargenis @minidemont @poeticbookwormcat @eternallyrosefire @shadowhuntyi @messageforthesmallestman @iheartshopping @fangirling-galore @nesiris21 @itsbeenmyhonor @stelena-klayley @littlemissperfecttt @lagrandeourse @readinf @barbreadsbooks @profoundpizzasong @optimisticsoulstarfish @locatinginspo @lxnvmvrzx @im-a-weirdo-for-life @laterria201 @bestillmystuckyheart @casiiopea2 @ineednewdaggers @fictionalrelapse @smileysunshinesworld

[barbreadsbooks]

Bliss: His Birthday

Xaden Riorson x Gamlyn! Reader

Masterlist

The sun rose quietly over Tyrrendor, the light slipping through the curtains in lazy ribbons of gold. And yet, the estate remained unusually quiet.

Too quiet.

No sparring, no squad bickering, no Ridoc yelling down the hallway about breakfast or wine or his traumatized soul.

Because they all knew what day it was.

Inside the duke and duchess’s chambers, Y/n stirred first, blinking slowly as the morning glow kissed her skin. She smiled instantly, already aware of the strong arms tangled around her waist, the warmth pressed against her back.

“Happy birthday,” she whispered without turning, knowing full well he was awake.

Xaden hummed, voice still low and rough with sleep. “The only gift I want is already in my arms.”

Y/n laughed softly and turned to face him. “That’s cheesy.”

He grinned lazily. “That’s true.”

She kissed him once, soft and slow, fingers brushing his cheek. “Well, good thing I’m spoiling you today. Breakfast in bed, a massage, wine at your favorite spot in the gardens later. A gift you’ll actually like tonight.”

His brows raised. “Oh? You’re gifting yourself to me twice?”

“Maybe three times,” she teased.

“Best. Birthday. Ever,” he groaned and rolled her onto her back to start said spoiling immediately.

She laughed into his kiss, fingers threading through his hair. “You just want to stay in bed all day, don’t you?”

“Absolutely. You, me, no interruptions, just—this. All day.”

And so they stayed. Wrapped in sheets, in kisses, in whispered confessions and laughter. A world made of two people who loved each other in the quietest, deepest ways.

Outside the doors, Ridoc stood with a tray of baked goods, stared at the closed doors, and sighed dramatically.

Sawyer walked by and did a double-take. “You’re not going in?”

Ridoc scoffed. “It’s Xaden’s birthday. I’m not that much of a monster.”

Sawyer blinked. “Personal growth?”

“No,” Ridoc replied, handing him the tray. “Self-preservation. You think I’m gonna interrupt him today? I like living.”

Garrick smirked from behind them. “One day a year. That’s all Xaden gets.”

Ridoc huffed. “He gets my sister every damn day. But today? Fine. Today she’s all his.”

And back inside, Xaden pulled Y/n closer under the covers, kissed the corner of her mouth, and murmured with a smile, “I never thought I’d get this.”

She rested her forehead against his. “You deserve everything.”

“Then I’ll take this,” he whispered. “You. All day.”

As night fell, the soft glow of candles filled their room, flickering with the gentle breeze from the open balcony doors. The stars were high, a brilliant canvas across the sky, but inside, all that mattered was the quiet, intimate space they’d created together.

Xaden was stretched out on the bed, a glass of wine in one hand, his free hand tracing soft patterns on Y/n’s arm, still glowing with the touch of their earlier time together. His gaze wandered over her face, the way the light played off her skin, making her look ethereal in the dim light.

She had insisted on getting him a proper dinner, and after much coaxing, they finally stepped out of their chambers to enjoy the meal in the private dining room. But now? Now it was just them, once more. The way it always should have been.

Y/n settled beside him, curling into his side with a content sigh, her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Her fingers played with the soft strands of his hair, the way she always did when she needed to ground herself. She felt at home with him, surrounded by nothing but his presence.

"Best birthday ever," Xaden said, breaking the silence, his voice a little hoarse, thick with affection.

Y/n smirked, her lips brushing against his chest as she moved slightly to look up at him. “You say that now... but I did spoil you rotten today."

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest, a deep, satisfying sound that always made her heart skip. "I don’t need material things, Y/n. I just need you."

Her lips softened into a smile as she met his gaze, those dark eyes so full of warmth. “You have me.”

“And I’m never letting you go,” he whispered, his hand coming to rest on her cheek, his thumb brushing over her skin.

The quiet serenity of the room felt like a perfect contrast to the world outside. She nuzzled into him, the wine’s warmth still lingering in her veins, feeling light and content. Xaden followed, holding her tighter, if only for the sheer desire to keep her as close as possible.

"You’re mine now, aren’t you?" he murmured, the question soft, though the possessiveness in it was unmistakable.

"Always," she replied, the word carrying an unspeakable weight of promise.

They stayed like that for a long while, in their own little bubble of peace, not needing to say anything more, just enjoying the moment.

Then, as the night grew deeper, Y/n lifted her glass, offering it to him. “To us. To this life we’ve built.”

Xaden clinked his glass against hers, their eyes locking as they shared the same unspoken thoughts. “To you, Y/n. And to whatever comes next.”

They drank together, and after, Y/n rested her head back on his chest, her breath steady as she let herself drift.

Xaden, however, stayed awake for a little while longer, tracing her back with his fingers, watching the moonlight through the open window. A small, content smile danced on his lips.

His wife. His life.

And nothing could ever take that from him.

Taglist: @eepyfaerie @dreamdragonkadia @hiraethjules @nikfigueiredo @galaxystern08 @taleiaargenis @minidemont @poeticbookwormcat @eternallyrosefire @shadowhuntyi @messageforthesmallestman @iheartshopping @fangirling-galore @nesiris21 @itsbeenmyhonor @stelena-klayley @littlemissperfecttt @lagrandeourse @readinf @barbreadsbooks @profoundpizzasong @optimisticsoulstarfish @locatinginspo @lxnvmvrzx @im-a-weirdo-for-life @laterria201 @bestillmystuckyheart @casiiopea2 @ineednewdaggers @fictionalrelapse @smileysunshinesworld @perfectwrites @soccerstarstories @whosethatnotme @muffin-baby @thatonegameaddict

[barbreadsbooks]

Perfect Together

a little fluffy bodoc drabble because a friend was having a tough day ❤️

It's set within The Avenues series and is on AO3 here but I thought tumblr could enjoy it toooooooo 🥰

---

Bodhi had known today would be hard.

Not for him, exactly. But for Ridoc.

He’d woken with the knowledge tucked under his ribs like a stone – something weighty and solid, a quiet presence that thudded there every time he let himself stop and feel.

Because today – as if the universe hadn’t already handed Ridoc enough to carry with the move and his big project at work – was his father’s birthday.

Not that the ungrateful bastard deserved it. Bodhi had met him more than enough times – bitter, brittle man who reeked of old whiskey and disappointment, who had looked Ridoc in the face and somehow still managed to miss everything bright and good about him. Who saw his own son’s spark and had spent decades trying to snuff it out.

And still, Ridoc had gone.

He’d insisted, with that half-grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes, that he could manage one day. Just the afternoon. That he wouldn’t stay long, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of anything more than polite obligation. He’d even bought a bottle of ridiculously expensive whiskey to take with him – knowing full well it’d be gone in an hour. Gone and unappreciated.

He knew. Bodhi knew he knew. But he’d gone anyway.

Bodhi hadn’t.

He couldn’t do it – couldn’t bring himself to step into that flat again, to sit across from the man who’d tried most of Ridoc’s life to dim the light in his eyes. So he’d worked instead. Ridoc hadn’t protested. Had even kissed his cheek and called him responsible in that teasing voice, the one that made Bodhi’s stomach twist with affection.

But still. When Ridoc had smiled at him before he left – wide, but a little too wide – Bodhi had seen through it. He could read him now, every version of him. That smile was the one he wore like armour – that soft little lie he told the world when he didn’t want to be asked how he really was.

And Bodhi knew how this would go in the end. Ridoc would walk through the front door afterwards, looking for all the world like he’d just popped to the shop, and then he’d flop onto their sofa, face first, unmoving and hollow for at least ten minutes before announcing in a muffled groan that he was “spoonless” for the rest of the day.

So. Bodhi had planned.

It was something he’d learned from his mum, long before coffee shops and long-term relationships – back when love was something you did with your hands, with actions, not always with words. When someone he cared about was struggling, Bodhi went into caregiver mode.

It looked different every time. Sometimes it was a hug. Sometimes it was letting the silence stretch comfortably long. Sometimes it was turning up with a latte someone hadn’t asked for but always needed.

And with Ridoc it was easier. He saw the effort – every bit of it. Appreciated the little things. Delighted in them, even. Which meant Bodhi could go all out without worrying it would be too much.

So tonight, he had a plan.

On the way home from work, he stopped off to pick up the doughnuts – Ridoc’s favourite place, the one with the ridiculously silly names and absurd icing designs – and lined everything else up in his head. At home, he showered quickly, slipping into his softest joggers and a hoodie that smelled like the fabric softener Ridoc always insisted was “the superior one.” He got Ridoc’s favourite lounge set out – the grey one with the slouchy top – and laid it neatly at the edge of the sofa.

Then he tidied. Cleaned the chaos of their shared space with a quiet sort of focus. Closed the curtains and switched on the fairy lights to bathe the living room in a soft golden glow. Cleaned the kitchen. Set the table in the front room – two plates, two sets of cutlery, and a couple of chilled ciders from the back of the fridge.

His phone chimed. A message from Ridoc: Just leaving now x

Perfect.

Bodhi opened Deliveroo and placed the order. Chicken khurana with pilau rice and a peshwari naan for Ridoc, butter chicken and chana masala for himself, with garlic naan on the side because they always shared that anyway.

Twenty minutes later, the door creaked open.

Ridoc walked in looking like someone had deflated him from the inside out. His shoulders sagged. His face was haggard, and his expression glassy.

He didn’t even say hello – just wandered into the living room, collapsed face first onto the sofa, and groaned into a cushion, his voice muffled.

“I have no spoons.”

Bodhi smiled softly and crossed the room, crouching beside him and running a soothing hand along his back. “Got your comfy clothes ready for you.”

Ridoc turned his head, just enough to look at him. His eyes were tired, but his smile – that smile – was real this time. “Thanks, babe.”

The doorbell rang.

Bodhi got up to fetch it, returned with two paper bags warm in his hands – and caught Ridoc just as he was pulling on the grey slouchy top.

“What’s that?” Ridoc asked, frowning faintly.

Bodhi shrugged, nudging the door closed with his foot. “Figured today might be rough. So… curry.” He nodded towards the table. “And doughnuts.”

He saw it then – the way Ridoc’s eyes glassed over, not from exhaustion now, but emotion. He nodded, biting his lip, and Bodhi didn’t press. He wouldn’t ask. That man didn’t deserve the oxygen of Bodhi’s concern, not in their home. Not where things were soft, and kind, and safe.

He placed the food down, handed over Ridoc’s favourites – pilau rice, the chicken dish he always said reminded him of something his mum used to make, the naan he always pretended he wasn’t going to finish and then did. Bodhi passed him cutlery and sat beside him.

“This means the world,” Ridoc said quietly, voice catching.

“I’m happy to do it,” Bodhi said, awkward but honest, grabbing the remote.

As the screen lit up, the first notes of The Fellowship of the Ring soundtrack spilled out into the room, and Galadriel’s voice echoed gently:

"The world is changed. I feel it in the water. I feel it in the earth."

Ridoc’s whole body relaxed beside him, shoulders easing as he smiled faintly and leaned his head on Bodhi’s shoulder.

“You’re perfect,” he said, soft and real.

Bodhi smiled, snuggling him in tight, and pressed a kiss to his temple. “You’re perfect.”

Ridoc turned in his arms, grinning tiredly. “So we’re perfect together.”

And well. 

Bodhi couldn’t argue with that.

[barbreadsbooks]

Do your oc’s have actual appearances? Since some of them are described with longer hair and stuff like that.

So, since I write in second-person most of the time, I try to be versatile and keep descriptions to a minimum so that my writing is inclusive to everyone. I do have face claims for everyone, but that’s just for worldbuilding, tbh. The only OC I would say has an “actual appearance” is Cosette, and that’s because she’s Aaric’s sister and therefore looks like a Tauri. If y’all want to see the face claims sometime, though, I’d be happy to share! :]

[barbreadsbooks]

Police: you're under arrest for trying to carry three people on a single motorcycle.

Xaden: fuck sake.

Bodhi: wait, did you just say three?

Police: yes, three.

Bodhi: oh my god.

Imogen: Garrick fucking fell off.

[barbreadsbooks]

Hello,

I know you don’t know me but I really like your wheat in wartime series. I was hoping I could be added to the tag list? If that’s possible. So that way I don’t miss a new update.

Have a good day

of course! i’m so glad you like the series so far, it’s been a labor of love i’m excited to share with everyone. i’ve added you to the list :)

[barbreadsbooks]

I have to ask…How does Aaric react to Cosette knowing about Alic’s death? Does he know that she knows?

Short answer? He finds out eventually, and it doesn’t blow over for a while. He loved Alic as much as he does Cosette, and he has no idea how Alic treated her until she actually tells him. I don’t think I’ll write a full fic for this, but here’s a blurb anyway, for your troubles:

“How the hell can you stand there and joke with him?” Aaric snaps, his usually glimmering eyes bright with fury. “Do you have any idea what he did?”

You hold your ground and tilt your head in confusion. “You need to be more specific.”

The younger boy jerks back, as if struck with your audaciousness. “Specific?” he echoes, staring at the door like it could come crashing down at any moment. “He fucking killed Alic! Is that specific enough for you?”

You go still. Not still in alarm, though — but still in the form of caution, like you’re facing a cornered wolf. 

“Ah,” is all you say. “I was wondering if you knew about that.”

Aaric’s eyes practically pop out of his head. He’s shaking, trembling with fury and grief and the fear that you’re getting too close to Riorson for his own comfort. You could become a casualty, too, if you’re not careful; the fact that you’re so calm about it all scares the shot out of him.

“Of course I do. Molvic told me,” he spits. “Right after Threshing. Said that he saw the same determination in my eyes in Alic’s before Riorson stabbed him in the heart.”

You inhale slowly and then relax a little, the tension in your shoulders loosening into something easier, more resigned. “I suppose that tracks.”

That tracks? Gods, you’ve never been so irritating in all of Aaric’s life. Why are you so…neutral? So insistent on being nice and friendly to Xaden when he sent your parents into a permanent mourning state?

As if sensing his growing desperation, you raise your hands and take a few, careful steps toward him. “Hey. Easy,” you murmur placatingly, smoothing over his arms like you would when you were children. “I know you’re upset, and that’s fine. Take a breather, though, so we can talk about it.”

“No!” Aaric stares at you, his anger giving way to helplessness and…panic? “How the fuck am I supposed to breathe when the man who killed our brother gets so close to you so easily? And you just let it happen!”

You grip his shoulders gently. “He wouldn’t hurt me, Cam,” you tell him softly. “I know he wouldn’t. Not intentionally.”

“You’re not Violet.” He laughs, bitter and quiet. “He hurt Alic. He wouldn’t hesitate to hurt me. What makes you special?”

Ignoring the sting of his words, you take a deep breath and look him dead in the eye. 

“I was there,” you whisper. “When it happened. Xaden didn’t just kill Alic for Garrick. He did it for me, too.”

Aaric’s mouth goes dry, and he barely resists the urge to wrench himself away from your hold. “…What?”

You hold strong, firm, like a stubborn rock in a flooding riverbank. “I was there, Cam,” you repeat. “Alic tried to kill me and have me be killed for months before Threshing.”

Aaric opens his mouth, and then closes it. Tries again, and fails. Again. Again.

You unzip the top of your uniform and gesture to the thin scar that sits pale against your collarbone. “He missed the first time he tried to slit my throat. Had Garrick not distracted him, I would be the dead one.”

Aaric just blinks. Stares at the scar, silenced by pure disbelief.

“No,” he says finally, softly. Defeated. “He wouldn’t have…”

You shake your head. “He would,” you reply firmly. “And he almost did.”

Then, you level your little brother with a look that chills him to the bone. “After all, what’s a bastard girl to a king?”